untitled number 153

There are times when everything is good, you know, and there are no personal qualifications for demising ideas. However you see large patches of grey before you. The grey of ones close to you that attaches down through maybe some sinews or something and comes out your ears. We're taught to live black and white. But I'm still struggling that out. The straight and narrow can seem a jagged tetris line, because sometimes perhaps there are many pathways to Heaven, you just have to choose the ones that go up. Up at a steady pace and not so steep you'll fall backwards into a mound of letters and numbers. Oh, dodecahedron, what are you cracking at?